


Play Dirty

by juubito (orphan_account)



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: Accidental Incest, F/M, Nothing major happens, One-Sided Attraction, So it's safe, They just talk, Where Stocke can't understand his own feelings and Eruca doesn't help in the least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/juubito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the day, they're still on opposite sides of the same coin (a coin that is steadily drowning in sand).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Dirty

"You should go back to sleep."

"Yes, I really should."

Eruca doesn't quite brush off Stocke's words: she absorbs, she molds, then spits those letters out back at him, not condescending nor sarcastic. She just states, most of the time, that yes, her bodyguard is right. Still, she won't listen. At least she's being courteous, in some way.

Stocke sighs and hugs his knees closer, rather annoyed by the warmth of the fire near his boots. It's a little habit he picked up years past, in the army, and that never left him somehow. Eruca notices: her mouth curls up in a polite smile.

"May I sit here?" she asks, but as soon as she stops talking she's already sitting beside Stocke on the freshly-cut log. He sighs, not minding it that much, really: for some reason, whenever he's near the princess his breath is a bit more labored. He sweats under his gloves, his shoulders itch, he feels like going back to sleep and leaving her alone to think, _did I do something wrong?_ She would never, though. Stocke assumes she's sharp enough to see through such a poor façade.

Oh, yes he minds. He doesn't wish for her to go back to sleep, not at all: he lies on a daily basis, he's quite good at it, so he lies to the princess he's supposed to protect, too. It's obvious she sees right through him, so why does he lie in the first place, knowing that? Why does he mind, not in a _I-can't-stand-you_ way, but rather in a _why-does-my-heart-beat-so-fast_ one?

He can't possibly be in love with her. They don't know each other that well.

Even if it feels like she's already got to know her, somehow.

(It's ridiculous: Stocke doesn't do love. He never thought about it, never thought he needed it.)

"We should move out before the sun rises," he sighs, carefully poking at the bonfire with a stick.

Eruca flexes her fingers, looking down at the tips of her worn-down shoes. They kind of look more comfortable, now. "And why is that?"

She tends to drop the formalities when they're alone. Eruca speaks quite a lot, she loves to talk, and it's obvious when she indulges in teaching the party about the healing properties of all the coloured flowers they come across, doesn't matter if Raynie says they hurt her eyes or if Marco steps back because he's so very afraid of poison (maybe he's just allergic, she muses later in the evening, when Marco isn't looking and Raynie is very ready to lighten up the mood with silly jokes). She's well-versed in politics, and loves to analyze both situations and people when it's required: Stocke first noticed when she let out a rather daring remark on how his being a secret agent clashed with wearing all red, and found it both hilarious and unnerving.

That's why it chews at his mind, when it's just the two of them and she won't budge. She won't let him in, show him her talkative side: it could be that she's just trying to protect her land, no matter how corrupted it is, she can't just sell out her secrets to the enemy. At the end of the day, they're still on opposite sides of the same coin (a coin that is steadily drowning in sand).

But still: it's grating, to say the least.

"Time is a luxury we can't afford," Stocke lies, again, and maybe this time Eruca doesn't catch it because she's raising her eyebrows at the fire as if it stuck out its tongue at her.

"How ironic," she murmurs, sitting in a more comfortable position. "Hearing these words from you, that is."

_Why won't you open up?_

"Would it be different if it were someone else?"

Eruca purses her lips. "I guess it would."

"Why?"

It could be that Stocke just wants to ask her out loud, why she won't show her vulnerable side to him, who is supposed to be her bodyguard. It could be.

"I'm just toying with you, Stocke." She smiles, but never shows her teeth. Stocke files away that little tidbit of information as _fake smile_ and returns it half-heartedly.

The fire is somewhat colder than before: Stocke stretches his legs, ignoring its warmth entirely. He looks down at Eruca's hand, catches glimpses of bitten fingernails and scratched skin, a torn sleeve, her shoes losing colour, her hair in dire need of a good comb, the sharp corner of her heart-shaped earrings now blunt. Eruca doesn't really look like a princess, when she's with him and no one else is around and she isn't being polite.

"I should really go back to sleep, if my bodyguard says so," she whispers, getting back up on her feet in a swift motion. Stocke nods and follows her with his gaze as she almost steps on Marco's sleeping form and giggles softly to herself. Maybe, in a better world, they could develop a better bond.

Better isn't an option, though. Just an utopia, at this point: he knows very well that they're almost at the end, that tomorrow they'll wake up with sand prodding at their limbs and, honestly, at the mere thought his throat dries up. He goes through everything up until the end because he was taught to do so, not because Lippti and Teo require it: they accept his ways in silence, but always add a word or two of warning when it's time to send him off. Stocke knows that even the time he can use is limited, so he should make sure they never see the end of the night.

Before opening the White Chronicle, he thinks of Eruca's dirty clothes and hair and her dirty smile and the way she talks to him.

He would really like to change that. The dirty clothes can stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Well hi there!  
> I'm new to the fandom, but I first played Radiant Historia when it came out and needless to say I loved it. I love it so much that I'm currently starting it for the fourth time.  
> I wanted to write something, and this thing came out, somehow, after months and months of writer's block. I can't say I'm proud but it's a start, doesn't matter if Nothing Actually Happens and we're treading on dangerous waters with that "accidental incest" tag.  
> (I do ship Stocke/Eruca. Don't tell the fictional police.)  
> Also, English isn't my first language, so sorry if this is just an awkward mess and some sentences are off. Anyway! I hope you enjoy, somehow! ♥


End file.
